


Down on Fascination Street

by blue_jack



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-09-14
Updated: 2011-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-23 17:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_jack/pseuds/blue_jack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for leupagus’ Inverted Prompt Fest: Danny’s fascinated by Steve's ribbon bar and Steve tells him what a few of those medals were for.
> 
> Title from the song “Fascination Street” by the Cure.
> 
> I apologize for the randomness. I had a hard time figuring out what to write.

"Why are you staring at me?"

Danny blinked. "What? Who said I was staring?"

"I'm saying it. You've been looking at me for at least five minutes now. I noticed."

"You're saying you noticed me noticing you?" he asked, gesturing between the two of them, trying to buy time to think. Shit, he was normally better at Steve-watching than that, but it was a Friday, and he always found himself taking extra looks on Fridays, like he was trying to fill up on Steve since he didn’t get to see him over the weekend.

"I'm saying I noticed you _staring_ at me. What gives? Do I have something in my teeth? Did I spill something on my uniform?"

"It's nothing," he said, because “you’re so pretty” wasn’t a good answer, even if it was the truth.

"It's nothing as in I _did_ spill something but the stain is too small to worry about?" Steve asked, leaning onto the table like he wanted to grab and shake the answer out of him, and hey, Danny would’ve been down with that, no problem. "Even though, oh, you just happened to see it from across the room. Or it's nothing as in you just don't want to tell me about it and then _laugh in my face_ when otherpeople—"

"How are you this paranoid? Is it from years of looking over your shoulder? All those covert ops getting to you? It can’t be because of me, because I, my friend, am a paragon of patience and support—"

"Just tell me why—"

"You just can't let it go, can you?"

"What? I want to know!” Steve said, getting all worked up as only he could. “Why can't I know? Is it some state secret or something? Is there some rule saying that—"

"Woah. I know you’re all ‘my body is a temple,’ but I hate to tell you that someone slipped something into your coffee this morning, because you are all sorts of crazy right now. I was just wondering about your ribbons, okay?” And he had wondered. A little. When he hadn’t been kind of daydreaming about the strategic locations all those damn tattoos. “That's it! Nothing big, nothing nefarious, I was just wondering!"

"Oh. Okay." He gave him one of those sheepish little smiles he always tried to pull out when he wanted to distract Danny with how stupidly adorable he was instead of getting into trouble. Not that it ever worked. Anymore.

"So?" he asked finally when it became apparent Steve wasn’t going to say anything anytime soon, and hell, he’d been the one to force them on the subject, so now Danny actually wanted to know.

"So what?"

"So what are they for?" he asked, only gritting his teeth a little in what he thought was a show of great patience.

"That's classified," Steve told him placidly.

"Classi—no. Hell no. You do not get to pull that card out _again_ , Steven. I understand that you were trained to keep your mouth shut even under torture, to show no fear in the face of little toothpicky things they jab under your nails and hell, I don’t know, iron maidens, but—"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Danny groaned, asking himself once again how he’d ever fallen for the dork. "You didn't. You _did not_ just say—"

"I've always wanted to use that line," he said, an eager smile spreading across his face. "That and 'Bond, James Bond,’ although in my case, it’d be ‘McGarrett, Steve McGarrett,’ but it just doesn’t have the same ring—"

“You are a child. You know that, right? The kind that can’t be left alone, because who knows what kind of trouble you’ll get into in the time it takes to run to the store for a gallon of milk and back. Seriously, you’re like a five year old trapped in the body of an adrenalin junkie with a sprinkling of psycho on top.”

“I’ll have you know that I was actually very mature at five—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you have pictures somewhere of helping little old ladies across the street, I’m sure, but we are getting off-track. Ribbons, Steve. Ribbons.”

“What about them?”

“You do that on purpose. You do that on purpose because you are a strange, sadistic man, and I’m on to you. I am,” he said, wondering what it said about him that he apparently found strange sadistic men attractive.

"Okay, okay. You really want to know?"

"Yes, I really want to know."

"Most of them are for pretty minor reasons."

"I don't care."

"Really, like all this talking is making it into a thing, but it’s not a thing—"

"Steven if I knew your middle name I'd be using it right now McGarrett! Just fucking tell me already!"

"Um, right, okay. Huh, well, this one is for being an expert shot."

He snorted. "Why am I not surprised? What else?"

"Let's see...oh, this one is because I spent over twelve months at sea."

"Really? They give you a medal for that?"

"It’s lonely being a sailor, Danny,” he said, looking woefully at him in a way that had him getting ready to volunteer to ease all his troubles away. With his dick. “And this one was because I was top of my class at—”

“Okay, not to belittle your trials and tribulations, but come on, you are purposefully choosing the most boring ones, aren’t you?”

“I _told_ you they were—”

“Steve.”

“What? You want me to say I got this one for carrying an injured man over three miles in hostile territory while I was bleeding from a gunshot wound?”

“Well…”

“In the middle of a sandstorm? Without having had any food or water for two days? Going uphill in both directions? And then tell you how you youngsters have it easy, because in my day—”

“You’re such a shit, you know that, right?”

Steve laughed, pushing away from the table. “Look, I have to get going in order to be on time for the ceremony at the base. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Not if I see you first,” he muttered, but he turned to watch Steve leave the room, because as far as he was concerned, that view was better than the sunny beaches outside any day.

“Oh, and Danny?” he said, popping his head back in, and the wicked smile on his face made Danny narrow his eyes. It was the one that made him wonder sometimes if Steve knew more than he let on, if maybe he’d realized exactly why he’d been staring in the first place, and the rest of it had just been to rile him up. Without even meaning to, he found himself tensing up in preparation for whatever Steve was going to say.

“It was four miles.”

Wait, what?

Then—

“Woah!” Steve just barely managed to duck in time in order to avoid being hit by the pen Danny had thrown at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weirdly enough, I am somewhat tempted to write more of this just because I like pining!Danny, but maybe I'll just start a new fic with pining!Danny instead? I don't know. Pointless a/n is pointless.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only loosely related to the first chapter since there's nothing about medals in it, but more pining!Danny, so yeah.

Less than thirty minutes after Steve had left, Danny realized he was bored. And not in the good way, the "I could get up and find the remote to change the channel if I wanted to, but nope, too much effort, I'm just going to take a nap" way. Rather, it was the "I'm going to gouge out my own eyes just to give me something to do" way, and shit, he needed to get a life.

It'd been so long since he'd had some real free time that he didn't know what to do with himself. Grace was in England, visiting Rachel’s family, and while normally he'd use the weekend by himself to do some household chores and catch up on sleep, cases had been slow enough recently that he didn't have to. He'd accomplished everything he needed to do during the week, and there was a limit to how much extra sleep a person could get, even him. He didn't have Grace, he didn't have work, and anyone he would've thought to keep him company was gone since Chin and Kono had left early for a family get-together, and Steve had just vacated the building. Without him. What was up with that? He’d once tried to get him to go pineapple picking of all things, but he didn’t think to invite him to the base when he knew he had nothing else going on? What, he wasn't good enough for his military buddies? Didn't know the lingo, so that meant he couldn't keep up?

Well, screw him! Danny could keep himself occupied! He was a party unto himself!

Five minutes later he was bouncing a ball he'd found in Chin's office against the wall and thinking bitter thoughts about a certain Steve "if something didn't blow up today I've done something wrong" McGarrett. So in that respect, it was the same as every other day.

He took a swig of beer, which he would never have thought to keep at the office considering how unprofessional it was, but hey, if Steve could hand one to the governor of all people in the middle of the afternoon, who was Danny to resist? He took another even longer drink before finding a rhythm with the ball. It was oddly soothing. No wonder Chin kept it around.

Speaking of odd, what had that last look from Steve been all about? Sure, it could’ve been him yanking Danny’s chain and getting the last word in, but there’d been something . . .

Or hell, maybe it was just his imagination. He’d seen how oblivious Steve could be when it came to people flirting with him, even though he was the first to notice when a person was interested in someone else on the team. How like the guy to pay attention to everyone else and ignore what was right in front of his face. Sure, Danny hadn’t actually come out and said anything explicit, but he’d been pretty obvious, even if he didn’t stand under Steve’s window holding up a stereo with “In Your Eyes” booming out of it, or wear a sign saying “Boyfriend wanted. Apply within.” He did have a touch of class after all. He wasn’t going to throw himself at the man.

Still, they went to each other’s places all the time, alcohol in hand, not even with a specific goal in mind but just because. Whenever they were at Steve’s, they’d sit outside and watch the waves crashing against the beach, _alone_ , until all hours of the night. He appreciated that subtlety was wasted on Steve, but for fuck’s sake, if that wasn’t a drunken hookup waiting to happen, he didn’t know what was.

Maybe he needed to suggest a midnight swim? And sure, he wasn’t a big fan of getting into a huge body of water where he couldn’t see the floor or the sides or whether there was a deadly shark coming his way, but as he’d told Steve so long ago, he’d do it for survival, and his blue balls were calling for mercy, no lie. So yeah, maybe he’d suggest a swim. And oh damn, he'd "forget" to bring his trunks. He’d have to borrow—no, wait, he’d just swim in his boxers, would strip off right there in front of Steve, maybe stretch a little bit—better yet, he’d accidentally let his boxers slip down slightly when he was taking off his pants—

He jumped when the phone rang, wincing when he heard the ball crash into something apparently breakable. Technically, he should answer that. However, he had the weird but unshakeable feeling that whoever it was would know what he’d been doing as soon as they heard his voice. He couldn’t believe he’d been sitting there coming up with ways to get into Steve’s pants. What was wrong with him? He had more important things to be doing than mooning over his best friend.

Well . . . okay, not really.

\-----

Steve was such a bad influence on him with all his rule-breaking and talk of immunity and means. Why else would he be sitting in his office—in the middle of the day when anyone could come walking back into the office and see him (even though everyone had planned on starting the weekend early, and Danny would probably hear the front door being unlocked)—with his hand on his fly? He felt _naughty_ , a word he wouldn’t have ever thought of applying to anyone outside of a porn movie, but for some reason totally worked at the moment.

He also felt slightly buzzed, and maybe chugging that second beer had been a bad idea considering he hadn’t had any lunch. Oh well.

He took a deep breath of air, taking in the scent of Steve’s cologne which he may or may not have sprayed in his office before tucking the bottle back into the upper drawer of Steve’s desk where he’d kept it for emergency occasions, aka, every damn day, and what the fuck, why not? It wasn’t like it would be the first time he’d gotten one off to thoughts of Steve, not the first or second or even twentieth time. It was his newest and best hobby really, and Steve hadn’t invited him along, so what else was he supposed to do? Paperwork? Shit no.

He settled back, listening to the leather squeak as he looked around one last time before slowly unzipping his pants, giving fate plenty of time to step in before he committed.

Nothing.

Alright then.

He gave his cock a few tentative pumps, and even with the nervousness, fuck, maybe because of it, it felt amazing. He let himself relax a little more, slouching further in the chair and spreading his legs. This was kind of nice. He’d never resorted to stealing Steve’s underwear or anything, but the cologne made it a lot easier to imagine Steve was in the room with him. Maybe watching him, seeing what Danny liked. Getting ready to tell him what to do even, which, okay, yeah, he got enough of that during the work day, but he might not mind so much in a different kind of setting. Or maybe he was right on the verge of touching him, hands hovering over his thighs, either to take over or maybe hold him down while he moved between them.

He let out a slow breath, toes flexing in his shoes, his hand picking up speed. That would be . . .

He moaned softly, eyelashes fluttering open as his fingers swept over the head of his cock—and there in the glass was Steve.

Danny had done some undercover work during his career, nothing too deep, although there had been a few cases where he could’ve gotten seriously hurt, one case even that had blown up in his face and nearly landed him in an early grave. He’d given it up after that, because he’d had Rachel and Grace to think about, but the experiences had taught him to maintain his cool and not freak the fuck out—visibly at least—when he was basically caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Thank fuck for that, because it was the only reason he didn’t jump out of the chair now and give Steve an even better view of all the ways he desecrated government property. He did squeeze a little harder than necessary, however, and ow, shit, fuck, ow!

Even though the majority of his brain seemed to be occupied with cursing and growing panic, the part still capable of rational thought noticed that it wasn't actually Steve that he was seeing but his reflection. Which meant that Steve probably hadn't realized Danny had spotted him. Which meant he could . . .

He could just imagine what would happen if he turned around and acknowledged Steve. He'd be absofuckinglutely humiliated and look ridiculous pulling up his pants and trying to come up with some lame-ass excuse as to why he was doing what he was doing; Steve would be embarrassed; they'd never be able to look each other in the eye again. But if he kept going and gave Steve time to get out of there? Well, he'd know that Steve knew, but _Steve_ wouldn't know that _he_ knew that Steve knew, and wasn’t that better all around? Really, he was just thinking about the good of their professional relationship, because if Danny went with option number two, which was telling Steve the truth, that he was fantasizing about him and had wanted him for who the fuck knew how long, and then Steve turned him down after seeing him naked? Yeah, he just might cry.

He hadn’t stopped masturbating when he’d noticed Steve, which in hindsight was really, really bad and he blamed it entirely on the shock and not on any bizarre exhibitionist tendencies that he’d never known he had. Nonetheless, it worked in his favor since he was pretending he hadn’t seen Steve, and stopping would’ve definitely been a big fucking clue that something was wrong.

 _Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain_ , he thought wildly, turning his chair slightly to minimize the view and hoping Steve had already left. The guy had been in the military; he had to be used to shit like that by now.

His eyes flickered to the glass, and fuck, he hadn’t moved.

 _These are not the droids that you’re looking for_ , he thought at him, wishing for the four hundred and thirty second time in his life that Jedi powers were real and that he had them. _Move along._

Steve was still there.

Damn it!

He was not turned on by the sudden chain of events, he wasn’t. Just because Steve _was actually watching him,_ it didn’t mean anything. Unless of course it did. In which case, he needed to come into Danny’s office and demand to give him a hand. Or start taking care of business outside his window.

He checked, but no.

Why the hell was he just standing out there? What did it mean? Maybe he had a voyeuristic streak? ‘Cause Danny could work with that. Or maybe he’d heard something important about Wo Fat and was waiting for him to finish so he could tell him?

Wow, that was just the most depressing and deflating thought ever.

Or maybe, he thought determinedly, because this was his alone time, and even though it had become alone time plus one, which, alright, made it better, he wasn’t going to give up his fantasy, no way, maybe Steve was watching because he couldn’t leave. Because he hadn’t expected to see Danny with his dick out, but now that he had, it was all he could do not to burst into the room in a sudden fit of workplace inappropriateness and get down on his knees. Maybe Steve wanted him as much as he wanted Steve, and once they got past the whole what the fuck-ness of it all, there’d be actual fucking taking place.

He wanted there to be fucking. A lot, lot of fucking. He wanted to know what kind of sounds Steve made when Danny was inside of him. If he liked it long and slow or preferred it fast and furious. If he came from the fucking itself or if Danny’d have to blow him afterward, which, yeah, he could do that, would love to do that, would damn well pay to do that if he’d let him.

He wanted to know what Steve’s cock looked like, wanted to feel the weight of it in his hand and on his tongue. He wanted it fucking him open, wanted Steve to shove him down on his bed and push into him, wanted the burn and the slick and steady thrusts, he wanted Steve to not let him up until he just couldn’t take anymore—

“Fuck,” he gasped, hips jerking as he came, his free hand clenching around the armrest as he tried to ground himself, the images still dancing behind his closed eyes. When had he shut them? When had he let everything get out of control?

He looked up at the glass, panting, body still twitching with the aftershocks, but there was nothing there. Steve was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter with actual porn, I think? Ah, porn, how you vex me so.


End file.
